


A Purpose

by triumphforks



Category: Inazuma Eleven: Ares no Tenbin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 13:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17121977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triumphforks/pseuds/triumphforks
Summary: Hiroto and Midorikawa get together towards the end of high school, and that's probably something they should tell Tatsuya.





	A Purpose

The big house was mostly empty, as usual, and today he strode through it with purpose. Through the entrance, a half-skip up the stairs, down the hall and finally shoving past the door, announcing loudly as he stormed in to the room-

“ _ Hiroto! _ ”

Silence. Hiroto was there but seemed completely oblivious to the world (as he often was), lounging back with whatever godawful music he had blaring in to his ears. Usually it was a sign that he’d checked out for the day- but no! Today he would not be dissuaded. Today he had  _ reason _ . So he strode on over, shoved Hiroto’s legs out of the way, sat down, and leaned in to yank out his headphones before the other boy could even register what had happened.

“Hiroto,” he said, softer, cutting off his complaints before he had a chance to get started. “We have to tell him.” By now Hiroto had managed to find his feet and had shifted to sit upright, winding up his headphones and looking at him like some kind of wounded dog.    
“ _ Do _ we though?” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that demure tone and those sad eyes looking up at him, so melancholy, were begging. But he did know better. Hiroto just didn’t want to face up to something that might be mildly inconvenient. How had he fallen for this idiot?

“Yes.” Stern. Unwavering. The kind of voice you’d use to command a dog. He leaned in, and gently reached out to take hold of Hiroto’s now-folded hands, to show his softness, his empathy -  _ yes, babe, I know this is hard - _ but with eyes that said just as clearly, there’s no getting out of this. “He’s my best friend, and he’s your-” he stopped for a moment, searching for the right words “-I don’t know, weird… pseudo-twin-”   
“That’s how you’re going to describe it?” 

“You know I think whatever you two have is messed up.” He gave Hiroto another look, the kind that said  _ stop interrupting.  _ It didn’t work. 

“It let me get close to you, didn’t it?” Boastful words, and a wry smile.

“I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing.” He tugged at his nose, teasing.    
“Are you calling me toxic?” Hiroto leaned in close, looking up at him from those striking eyes. He could feel the warmth from his skin, could see every strand of hair, could count every eyelash if he wanted - and, on any other day, he would have let himself be captivated. Would have let himself fall in to the obvious trap, and given in to every part of him that was shouting to be consumed. But not today. Today he had  _ purpose _ , and it would take more than the batting of eyelashes to distract him from that. 

So he played his own hand instead. He didn’t let himself be coyly baited in - no, he attacked, jumped in for a devouring kiss; and he didn’t pull back until there was the desperate need for air. That’s how he knew he won. 

“ _ This _ is what’s messed up,” said Hiroto, breathless, pulling himself away.

“I can’t help that you’re addictive.” Hiroto gave him a  _ look.  _

“I’ll never understand you.”   
“I hope not.” He smiled, sweetly. And then took hold of Hiroto’s hands again and stood, pulling the other up with him. “Now we have to go tell Tatsuya we’re dating.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He had, by now, worked out how to handle Kira Hiroto. It was by shoving him in to situations he couldn’t escape from, and hope he actually did what was expected of him before he fell back in to his usual shitty attitude. For someone who was so obnoxiously confident, he sure liked to sit alone and brood - which was fine, when the time called for it - but sometimes what was needed was action. Not talk, not thinking, but  _ doing,  _ and it seemed Hiroto reacted best to that when he was given a bit of an uncomfortable push. Or more accurately, a shove. That was why he was now being dragged out of his room, by his boyfriend of no more than a few months, to do something they should have done a long time ago. He-

… he felt Hiroto’s hands slip from his grip, barely a few steps past his bedroom threshold. And when he looked back he saw the other had well and truly planted his feet, and when he looked up at his face he was rocked by expression that was there. He had expected some kind of defiance, some obnoxious protest. Instead he saw downcast eyes that refused to meet, and an almost palpable hesitation. 

“Hiroto?” Softer, now. Something told him he had to tread gently.

“I… I haven’t… told my sister yet, so…” Uncharacteristically cagey. Hiroto would either tell you exactly what he thought, or nothing at all, but this? This was forced. This was something he didn’t want to say, and it made his heart sink, his determination waver. Was he pushing too hard? But before he could think on it too hard, Hiroto continued. “We can’t… we shouldn’t hold hands, because... what if she sees? I don’t want her to see.” In spite of every pause, every stumbled word, he managed to say that last part the clearest. Truest. And while it was only a few words, it was enough to send him reeling. 

_ Why?  _ He must be an embarrassment, after all.  _ What would a rich kid want with a sad orphan like you? _ He must be just a toy, after all. Some kind of curiosity to be tossed aside when it no longer amused. He was only so useful as he was unknowable, unreachable (and even though this was a moment of crisis, he mentally filed that under ‘important to know’).  _ This _ was why he didn’t want to tell Tatsuya.  _ Because you’re not enough. And he doesn’t want to get your hopes up.  _

He was silent, processing, but eventually he spoke.

“...Why?” 

Hiroto shifted, visibly uncomfortable, tightly crossing his arms and hiding his hands and looking at everything but at him. 

“Because…” His voice trailed off. More shuffling. More anxiety. “I…” A clear start, but quickly devolved in to mumbling. Hiroto took a breath, as though to steady himself, and tried again. “...Because I really like you. And I don’t want to fuck it up. There’s probably some kind of right way to do this, right? Like I should introduce you properly, somehow?” His voice got stronger the more he rambled - and Hiroto kept rambling. A lot. 

But truth be told, he’d stopped listening right at the start. 

_ ‘I really like you.’  _

He forced his mind to stop, so it could regroup, and recover. He forced the anxiety and doubt way back down, so his actions could be solid, and true. He took half a step back towards the room and reached out, interrupting Hiroto’s ramble by wrestling one of his arms out of it’s surprisingly strong nervous fold, and gently taking hold of his hand. For the first time since leaving the room, Hiroto looked him in the eye. Stunning eyes, asking to be understood. He smiled, softly. Not to tease, not to confuse, but to comfort. 

  
“I understand,” he said, with a slight and hopefully shake of the hand. “Why don’t we go practice sorting all that out with Tatsuya?” He started walking again, pulling Hiroto behind him, this time far more gently. And after a few paces he let the hand drop, although not without some hesitation on his end. Would Hiroto follow? He held his breath in anticipation - and let it go just as quickly, as he heard the other’s steps continue to match his own. He looked over, and saw a smile. A shy smile. A  _ sly  _ smile. And he couldn’t help but feel even more sure of himself, and of his purpose for the day. 


End file.
